


Fast Forward to Something Like a Feeling

by writteninblood



Series: Never the Same [9]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Dadwald, Fluff, Heart-to-Heart, His dads are trying, Lee puts up with a lot, M/M, Martin is unimpressed, Movie Night, POV Edward Nygma, POV Oswald Cobblepot, Realization, Reconciliation, Sharing a Bed, Sort Of, Unresolved Sexual Tension, it's happening!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 18:25:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14219070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninblood/pseuds/writteninblood
Summary: Lee gives Ed a nudge in the right direction and the tension begins to build between Ed and Oswald.





	Fast Forward to Something Like a Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> *FLAILS*
> 
> That is all.

Early one evening, after taking off his disguise, Edward walks into Cherry’s and locates Lee immediately. She steps down from her bar stool and watches him approach, the expression on her face indiscernible. Before he can reach out to hug her in greeting, she lands a stinging slap across his face that sends his glasses flying.

“How could you just take off like that? I’ve been so worried! I thought we were friends, Ed? Friends _talk_ to each other.”

Edward picks up his glasses, puts them back on and rubs at his cheek. “Your concern is touching.” He takes a seat beside Lee’s at the bar. “I really wish you would stop doing that.”

“I’m sorry. You know how I get when I’m mad.”

Edward raises his eyebrows and nods derisively. 

“You made a hash job of your little overseas expedition. The word is out and you’re at the top of the GCPD’s most wanted list again.”

Edward tries to preen but his heart isn’t in it. 

“Do you know how many times I’ve had to lie about your whereabouts? There are more than a few people who would happily hand you over to the GCPD to lift the target off their own heads. You’re going to have to be very careful now, Ed.”

Edward stares down sadly at the grasshopper that’s been put in front of him. “I was off my game. What should have been the grandest series of art thefts in history was a failure because they managed to trace me. I should have waited.”

Edward knows better than to expect sympathetic platitudes from her. 

“Did it help?” She asks.

“Did what help?”

“Running away from your problems.”

Edward takes a sip of his drink to avoid answering but subsequently grimaces. “These taste better at the Iceberg Lounge.”

“I’m sorry my bar doesn’t meet your taste for the finer things.” Lee says, shrugging and taking a sip from her ever-present hip flask. She then smirks for the first time since Edward arrived, to show she isn’t really annoyed. It makes him feel marginally better.

“I didn’t run away. You don’t know what happened.”

“Something about Penguin wanting to go back and kill your girlfriend again with his bare hands?”

Edward turns his head sharply to face her. “You’ve spoken with him.”

“After you took off, I want to see him, yes.”

Edward feels his eyes widening incredulously. Has Lee betrayed him too?

Lee seems to read the concerns in his mind because she elaborates, “I wanted to find out why you left—I figured he had something to do with it.”

Edward nods, still uneasy at the idea of Lee and Oswald talking about him. “I’ve seen him twice since I returned. The first occasion, Martin locked us in the basement, and Oswald told me he was sorry. I’ve never seen him like that. He seemed so…sincere. Careful with his words, instead of letting them rush out in anger. He said he misinterpreted our relationship but the thing is, I still don’t understand why he had such a strong reaction to thinking you and I were…an item?”

“You really can’t think of anything?” _She_ apparently seems to think it’s obvious.

“Well he’s obviously not still in love with me, not after everything. Perhaps he was worried it might cause me to spend less time with Martin?”

Lee simply blinks at him.

“Assuming either of those options are plausible, how do you feel about Oswald now?”

Edward frowns. He’d shut down the warm feelings of friendship that were beginning to form again, as fuelled by Oswald’s actions, and Lee’s encouragement.

Edward knows he has strong feelings towards Oswald, because of their history, and the fact they are kindred spirits. Those feelings are strong enough that he still wants to try, still wants to take him at his word, even after everything that’s passed between them. After all, he _is_ the best friend Edward has ever had.

“I think I’d like to try to be friends again. Given the circumstances, it will be difficult. But I _want_ to be able to trust him again.”

There’s something in her eyes that makes him uncomfortable, so he averts his eyes and continues.

“Jim came looking for me the second time I was at the Iceberg Lounge. Oswald covered for me. He could have just handed me over and been rid of me forever. Well, for a _time_ , anyway. I’d have gotten out eventually. But he showed that he values Martin and myself above anything else, even himself. I think he might have really changed this time.”

Lee smiles. “I want you to keep an open mind, Ed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, don’t limit yourself to what you already know. Give it some thought, okay?”

Edward furrows his brows at her. What a stupid thing to say—he knows _everything_. He narrows his eyes, trying to gouge what she might be getting at. He opens his mouth to enquire further, but Lee cuts him off.

“So how was Europe?”

He thinks about ignoring her question and pursuing further, but Lee is a more stubborn character than he is. And he _is_ desperate to talk about his adventures.

“Well, I started in London…”

*

When he leaves Cherry’s, having put his disguise back on (differently framed glasses, a flat cap and a prosthetic nose), his mind wanders back to Lee’s earlier comments. He simply doesn’t understand what there is that he might not be aware of.

He goes around in circles—mentally that is, not literally. There isn’t anything he doesn’t know about Oswald, especially since they’ve cleared the air and laid everything out in the open. No secrets or lies for the first time in a while. Does Lee know something he doesn’t? Perhaps something she had discussed with Oswald when she visited him?

It grates and grates on his nerves until he finds himself standing outside the Iceberg Lounge. He can’t possibly call in, he has no reason to. He looks up at the neon umbrella, feeling distinctly unsettled. He carries on walking until he reaches the coffee shop he likes down the street.

Edward is pondering the absurdity of having stolen many extremely valuable works of art, yet having to stand in line to wait for coffee, when it finally clicks. He’s looking around at the patrons, observing, wondering if any of the important faces of the Diamond District are present—when his eyes land on a couple gazing at each other lovingly and holding hands across the table. The one nearest him picks up one of his lover’s hands and kisses the back of it. The answering smile from his partner is full of adoration. 

Just two men in love.

It hits him like a truck.

He eventually realises the barista is trying to get his attention—he’s next in line—but he just turns on his heel and leaves. 

Edward flips open his phone and angrily dials Lee. 

“ _Why didn’t you tell me?_ ” He hisses when she answers.

“Took you that long to figure it out, huh?”

“Well it wouldn’t have if you’d just _told_ me!”

“Calm down, Ed. There are some things people need to work out on their own.”

“But what am I supposed to do now?” He asks, panicked. “I can’t continue my visits with Martin like this! It would be like I have some sort of…agenda.”

As he flings a frustrated arm out, he knocks a bag of groceries from the arms of an elderly woman. He leans his head to one side to keep the phone between his ear and shoulder as he starts to gather the fallen items. The woman, however, starts swatting at him with a rolled up newspaper. He apologises, annoyed, and hurries on through the crowds. 

When Lee speaks again she sounds amused. “Have you ever considered that’s what Martin wants? Why he planned the movie nights, and locked you two in a room together?”

“That’s absurd. He’s ten.”

He stops suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk and people huff, irritated, at having to reroute around him. 

Ten or not, those are exactly the sort of things Martin would do.

“He’s a _genius_.” Edward says with awe.

“He’s definitely a special kid,” Lee agrees. 

“Wait, so does this mean that Oswald is still in love with me? Is _that_ why he went crazy when he thought you and I--?”

“Look, Ed, I can nudge you in the right direction and support you, but as to whether Oswald still feels the same, you’ll have to find out for yourself. Just do what feels right. You know him better than anyone after all.”

“But Lee, how does it even _work_ with men?”

“ _Bye_ , Ed!” She hurriedly hangs up.

Edward listens to the dial tone, jarred at her haste to end the conversation. He flips it shut then glares at it.

He watches people hurry around him for a while longer as he tries to get his thoughts in order. 

But there’s nothing but a loud cacophony of chaos in his mind, all his thoughts clamouring for his attention. 

He finally decides to head for home; he feels more disoriented and unsettled now than he did when he didn’t know what it was that he was missing.

*

When Edward arrives at the warehouse he’s currently calling home, he slings his hat onto the hat stand and wanders absently among his stolen paintings, idly tracing a gloved finger along the elaborate frames.

He _hates_ when he doesn’t know things. Especially things about _himself_. How could he have missed something glaringly obvious? It’s an insult to his intelligence. 

What makes it even worse is that it explains so much. The depths he went to, to destroy Oswald, and the way they keep becoming involved in each other’s lives, seemingly drawn like magnets. Well not all of that can be blamed on connection or fate. Martin was the chief instigator in the renewal of their friendship following the truce dinner. The significance of Martin’s role in all of it is rather astounding. 

He wonders if Martin could read how Edward felt about Oswald? Was he, like Lee, trying to bring him and Oswald together? Did _everyone_ see it except him?

He lifts the stylus of the gramophone and soothing classical music begins to fill the space. He closes his eyes for a few moments and lets it wash over him.

Feeling a little calmer, he grabs a few wads of hundred dollar bills from one of the cages he has stuffed with money, and lays down on the elegant chaise lounge, clutching the money to his chest for comfort. 

He just feels so _confused_ , his thoughts in jumbled turmoil. How could he not recognise this about himself? It almost seems like even Oswald himself knew. _You need me, Edward Nygma. Just as I need you._

 _Oswald_. His pulse quickens. He thinks back to the last few occasions he had spent time with Oswald before everything went up in flames again. How he’d held Oswald’s hands that night when he’d been teaching him to sign the alphabet. The way Oswald touched his lip after the stand-off with Gallo’s mob. His breath catches in his throat and he absently touches his own lips, as if he could feel the ghost of Oswald’s touch. He imagines that Oswald hadn’t stopped there, had pulled Edward down for a kiss and…

He grips the money tighter as his heartbeat accelerates and his breathing becomes erratic. 

He _wants_ Oswald, and it burns out of control like a forest fire, the intensity of it like nothing he’s ever experienced. 

But this realisation is immediately followed by panic.

 _Does_ Oswald still feel the same? It would explain why he was so upset that night, and why he sent Edward away. But he can’t be certain. And he needs to be certain, before he even _contemplates_ anything else. 

He suddenly sits up, the wads of cash falling into his lap. He needs a plan of attack. Realising the need to strategize, he jumps up excitedly, uncaring that the money has fallen to the floor. Now he finally understands, he can take the steps towards having what part of him has always wanted.

A family.

*

The next movie night isn’t awkward like the first one since Oswald’s apology was, but it isn’t exactly comfortable. It’s just that Edward seems…jumpy. The way he’s holding himself suggests that he’s tightly wound, and every time Martin speaks to him, his movements are jerky, and his responses distracted. In short, he looks like a man unhinged. Oswald can’t help but be concerned. He wants to ask Edward if he’s quite alright, but Martin saves him the trouble, asking several times.

“I’m fine,” Edward repeats robotically.

Oswald tries not to stare and make Edward even more uncomfortable, but he wishes he knew what had made Edward so irritable and on edge.

Eventually Martin simply gives up and goes to bed, not before he and Oswald shrug at each other while Edward absently watches the credits roll on the movie. Martin glances at Edward one more time with a baffled expression before leaving the basement. 

When the video tape eventually clicks to a stop, Edward turns to face Oswald. The silence after the sweeping credits music is incredibly loud, and Edward looks a little afraid.

After a few moments of awkwardly glancing at each other, Edward speaks. 

“Budapest is a beautiful city.”

It seems like an olive branch and Oswald grasps at it with both hands. “I’d love to hear all about it.”

A lot of the tension in Edward’s frame seems to drain away. He grins and moves closer. Oswald finds himself smiling back, the reaction entirely out of his control.

“I have some photographs, if you would like to see?”

“Of course!” Oswald eagerly responds.

Edward retrieves a small envelope from his pocket and takes out a wad of polaroids. He hands them to Oswald.

“The first ones are just some shots I took as I wandered around—see the old city across the Danube? The Habsburgs were an admirable dynasty. The amount of power and absolutism wielded over such vast lands…it’s fascinating really. Have you ever read about the Austro-Hungarian Empire?”

Edward’s eyes are lit with fervour as he eyes the polaroids, and he is leaning over Oswald slightly. Oswald feels his heart overwhelmed with fondness as he looks at him. 

“I only know what my mother told me about the family history and what life was like there.”

Far from being disappointed with Oswald’s lack of knowledge, Edward seems delighted to have a chance to tell Oswald everything he has learned. He tells Oswald about the mysterious Empress Elisabeth, and how she spent much of her life travelling and avoiding the confines of life at court, and of her grim assassination—the weapon of choice a nail file. Edward lauds the creativity of the attacker, as does Oswald. Edward talks about how the rule of the Habsburgs was one of the single best examples of the power a controlled public image can have, and Oswald listens, admiring as never properly did before, Edward’s wealth of knowledge, and the enthusiasm with which he shares it. 

Oswald prompts here and there, partly because he’s interested, but mostly because he just wants Edward to keep talking so he can listen to the comforting rumble of his voice.

When he gets to the end of the photos, they become rather less scenic, and Oswald frowns quizzically. Edward doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I believe this is where your mother and her family used to live.”

Oswald almost drops the photos. He dimly notices that his hand is shaking. 

“How did you--?”

“I did some research after you told me that I should go there and why.”

“And you took these photos even after…” Oswald can’t look him in the face, still full of shame about the night he’s referring to.

But Edward’s tone is kind. “Well it’s always good to have knowledge about your greatest nemesis.”

In any other situation, animosity would probably follow. The way he says it now is still deeply personal, but in a _good_ way.

Oswald swallows. They’re quiet for a moment as they both look at the last photo.

“I can’t express how much it means to me, to see this place.” Oswald hands the photos to Edward but the man holds up his hands.

“Keep them. I think they mean more to you than they do to me. And besides, I have plenty of others from the other cities I visited.”

Oswald stares down at the photos, lost for words. He’d thought he’d be lucky if Edward would ever speak to him again, let alone give him such a significant gift. 

“ _Thank you_.” Oswald says, breathlessly.

“You’re welcome.”

Oswald puts the photos in his jacket pocket and they sit in a charged silence. This one, however, is not awkward. Or uncomfortable, despite how close to Oswald Edward is sitting. After a little while, Edward clears his throat. 

“Oswald, would it be alright if I stayed here tonight?”

Oswald can hardly believe his ears. “Of course you can. I have a couple of guest rooms—”

“No, I mean here on the couch.”

“You want to sleep on the couch? I can assure you the guest rooms are perfectly serviceable, and the beds are much more comfortable. I haven’t slept in them myself but the mattresses and sheets are of the highest quality—”

Edward takes a deep breath and looks Oswald in the eye. “I was hoping you would join me.”

Oswald is sure his brain has stopped working, or that he fell asleep on the couch during the movie and this is all a rather excellent dream.

“You want me to sleep here on the couch too?” Oswald clarifies.

“If that’s…acceptable. It’s not like we haven’t shared before.”

Oswald searches Edward’s expression for signs of trickery or foul play but finds nothing but vulnerability and sincerity. And maybe a tiny spark of hope.

He remembers the last time they shared a sleeping space. The first time, Edward had been quite the gentleman and had offered to sleep on the sofa, but his long legs had dangled pathetically off the edge. Oswald had sighed, irate with everything as he was back then, and had told him to just get in bed with him. He’d made him get a separate blanket so there was no risk they would touch. Edward had looked so pitifully grateful at being allowed to sleep next to the Penguin that Oswald had smiled to himself, once he’d rolled away to face away from the warmth and admiration in Edward’s eyes. 

Oswald inhales deeply through his nose. He can’t take too long to consider, not when Edward is taking such a huge risk. 

“There are spare toothbrushes in the bathroom cabinet. You can go first.”

Oswald can’t look at him, he’s blushing deeply with embarrassment and his heart is beating a mile a minute. He hears the rustling of Edward getting up, and not long after, the clicking of the basement door.

He grips the arm of the chair and lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, before taking in oxygen like a man who’d been drowning. What is he supposed to do now? _What is happening?_

Oswald needs to calm down. They are just sleeping side by side. Like a sleepover, something the other kids and school used to do—nobody ever wanted to stay at Oswald’s. Edward is giving him a chance it seems, a chance to rebuild and perhaps repair the broken trust between them. And Oswald will not ruin it by overthinking and panicking. 

Except that’s exactly what he’s doing.

He shakes his head, refusing to let himself think further on it. Grabbing two cushions, he places them side by side at his end of the sofa; there is more than enough room for them to lie side by side. But then Oswald wonders if it will look too intimate, so he gets up and places one of the cushions at the other end. There is a throw blanket laying across the back of the couch that should be big enough for both of them.

Edward returns then, and Oswald gets up and passes him so he’s not there to witness whatever Edward’s reaction is to the pillow arrangements. He feels extremely nervous and jittery about the whole situation, and more than a little giddy. There is a tiny hint of suspicion that he thinks will take some time to go away. But for now, the overriding emotions are hope and excitement.

When he returns to the basement, he finds that Edward has rearranged the pillows to sit side by side. The man himself is perched on the edge of the sofa, seemingly waiting patiently, but Oswald knows him better. Edward is nervous too.

Oswald sits beside him, the distance of a person between them, unsure how to proceed. Pursing his lips with uncertainty, he looks to Ed for cues. Looking up and determinedly holding his gaze, Edward slowly peels off his jacket and hangs it over the back of the sofa. Oswald’s heart is _hammering_. If Edward strips to his undergarments, Oswald may do something extremely undignified. 

Edward then loosens the knot of his tie and, eyes still on Oswald’s, slides it off. When Edward starts undoing the buttons of his shirt, Oswald thinks his heart might actually beat right out of his chest. His mouth is completely dry.

Mercifully, Edward only undoes three buttons, enough to be comfortable. Finally, he toes off his shoes and then shuffles over to the spot on the inside of the sofa and lays down. He smiles up at Oswald encouragingly.

He looks away from Edward and closes his eyes for a moment to compose himself before beginning the same process. He takes off his jacket, brocade, shoes and undoes the top few buttons of his shirt. He can _feel_ Edward’s eyes on him the whole while. When Edward had suggested sleeping on the couch, he hadn’t imagined it being so…intimate. 

Oswald turns the lamp off, the only light coming from the projectors on button. He grabs the throw and moves around to lie beside Edward, on his back, as it’s the most comfortable for his leg. Edward is laying on his side, facing Oswald.

“Don’t forget your glasses, Ed.”

It all feels very domestic, like they’re lovers going to bed for the night. He folds out the throw and pulls it up over them. 

“Oh! Yes. I wanted to see—never mind.” He takes them off and puts them on the coffee table.

And then the only sound is their breathing in the darkness. Oswald doesn’t dare meet Edward’s eyes, it would be _too_ intimate. He knows Edward is looking at him, can feel his staring. Oswald wonders what he’s thinking. Best not to dwell on it. He only hopes it’s not about killing him in his sleep. Anything other than that would be progress.

“Goodnight, Ed.” Oswald murmurs. 

“Goodnight, Oswald.” Edward croaks back.

He closes his eyes, but it’s a long time before his heart slows down enough to sleep.

*

When Edward awakens in the morning, the first thing he registers is the slight warmth against his forearm, where it's laying against Oswald's upper arm. Then he remembers, and with a rush of giddy anticipation looks up at Oswald. 

He’s still laying on his back, sleeping peacefully with his hands on his stomach, not touching Edward in any way. The only difference is that his head is tilted towards Edward slightly, his open collar baring his tantalisingly pale neck. Has he _always_ felt this way about Oswald? He’s seized with the urge to move closer and wrap his arms around him, is burning to feel his skin, but he knows he has to take his time with this. Neither of them is ready for things to change quickly. The trust has to be rebuilt as Lee had said. But Edward thinks they are off to a pretty good start. What they had shared the previous evening makes him think there is every chance that Oswald is still in love with him.

The second thing he registers is that Martin is standing over them, all dressed and ready for school, arms folded, looking unimpressed. Edward scrambles to sit up, and Martin hands him his glasses.

 _What do you think you’re doing?_ Martin signs. 

_I’m sorry Martin, we were talking and I fell asleep…_ It seems like a weak explanation even as he signs it.

 _Not that._

Edward raises his eyebrows. 

_I mean, why are you hiding down here? If you want to cuddle with Dad you can stay in his room. I don’t mind._

Edward can feel himself blushing right up to the tips of his ears, flustered at the very idea of being in Oswald's bed.

_That won’t be necessary, Martin. I just fell asleep. That’s all. No cuddling._

Martin gives him a look that says he’s not entirely convinced, and looks uncannily like Oswald while doing so. It’s clearly a look he’s picked up from Oswald, and it is endearing seeing him mimic his father. Even if it is to look at him suspiciously.

Edward doesn’t want to give him false hope, in the event this doesn’t go the way both of them want. Realistically he knows, that with their fraught history, things could go wrong again. The situation is very delicate. 

He climbs over Oswald, trying his best not to disturb him. He picks up his clothes and shoes and gestures for Martin to follow him out of the basement. He figures he can catch a ride with Oswald’s driver on his way to taking Martin to school, saving him the annoyance of putting his disguise on again. He picks up his cane from the study, realising that’s how Martin knew he was still there. It would be very difficult to hide anything from that boy.

In the back of the limousine, Martin taps Edward’s shoulder to get his attention. 

_Does this mean you and Dad are friends again?_

Edward thinks back to the happiness he’d seen in Oswald’s expression when he asked him if he’d like to see the photos of Budapest. He smiles to himself as he looks out the window at the city passing by.

“Yes, I think we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love any chance to project my history nerding onto my fics XD
> 
> Title from Real Thing by Lebrock.


End file.
